


Past is Present

by cryptidbf, denounce



Series: He Left [1]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, cole and elsa are just friends, mlm and wlw solidarity, ohhhh my god these idiots, these absolute fools they're in so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidbf/pseuds/cryptidbf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/denounce/pseuds/denounce
Summary: Cole has fallen from grace. First he's been exposed on an affair that wasn't truly an affair, and now he's at the door of his old rival— his oldlover.This is bound to go well.





	Past is Present

At two in the morning, there comes a sharp knocking at Jack’s door.

Jack startles awake with a jolt and lets out a low groan, running a hand down his face. With all the carelessness of somebody who’s just been rudely snapped out of sleep, he stumbles to his feet and makes his way out into the rest of his apartment, going for the door. He opens it and— _Christ,_ Cole Phelps is standing there. Talk about seeing a ghost. “Do you need something?” He asks, words cold and clipped.

Cole inhales sharply— he obviously didn’t expect Jack to come to the door so soon, perhaps not even at all. His hands ball into fists so he can keep from wiping at his face. _Don’t make it obvious._ “I—” His voice breaks, his jaw clenching. He takes a deep breath— continues when he can, his tone low and desolate. “I don’t know.”

For a long moment, Jack just stares at him. He looks like a downright wreck. Something deep, _deep_ down inside him says to take him in his arms and tell him everything’s going to be okay. He pushes that thought away, as far as it can go, and runs a hand back through his hair. “Well,” he says, “Obviously you need _something_ or you wouldn’t be standing at my door at—” He doesn’t know what time it is. He decides to just cut that thought off completely. “What’s going on?”

“My first thought was— was to come to you,” Cole says, his eyes on the floor. “Something’s gone wrong. Very wrong. Someone— _thought_ something was going on, when it very much _wasn’t,_ and now—” He stops, finally rubbing at his face to clear away the dampness. A shaky inhale— it takes him a while to continue. “I can’t go home.”

Jack raises his eyebrows. Right now, he’s desperately trying to ignore the pang in his heart. “Why me?” He asks, “Don’t you have a million other people you could go to? I mean, last time I checked, we’re not exactly on good terms.”

Cole shifts his weight to another foot, still staring at the floor. He looks down at his hands— small crescent marks are in his palms. “You’re the only person who knows me,” he says, quietly.

His words hang in the air, the two men standing there in a tense silence. Jack tears his fingers through his hair again and— he moves aside. “I guess I can’t send you away,” he says, “It’d be rude of me.”

Cole heads inside, ducking his head and muttering a surprisingly soft “thank you,” stopping in the threshold. He finally looks up— lets his eyes adjust to the dim light. “Lot of… _blue_.”

“I haven’t really ever thought about it,” Jack remarks, squinting a bit, “Kind of just— happened. It’s a nice color. I like blue.”

Cole glances back at him and— _God,_ this is the first time he’s seen those icy, piercing blue eyes in years. “It _is_ a nice color,” he says, his eyes dropping from Jack’s face and going back to the floor. “I— suppose I’ll be taking the couch.” A sudden change in topic.

Jack clears his throat— averts his gaze. Staring at Cole for too long couldn’t be good for his health. “Uh,” he says, “No, I can give up my bed. It’s fine.”

“Jack—” Cole inhales sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Phelps,” Jack starts, tone firm, “Take the bed. I’ve slept on my own damn couch before.”

Now Cole’s looking at him again, eyebrows furrowed. “I just came to your door at— _who knows_ in the morning after two whole years of silence. Your bed is yours.”

Jack scoffs. “Silence or not, you’re still a guest and I’m not letting you sleep on my couch when there’s a perfectly fine bed,” he says, “Take it or walk.”

Cole breathes in to respond— then, his voice dies in his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “I don’t deserve it, alright? Please. Just— sleep in your own bed. It’s fine.”

Jack is staring at him again. Cautiously, he takes a step forward and reaches out a hand— pulls it back. “It’s not fine,” he says, “Clearly, right now, you need at least _some_ kind of comfort.” He goes quiet. Then, he reaches out his hand again and tilts Cole’s face up to look at him. “Either take the bed or I’ll throw you in it.”

Cole locks eyes with Jack, something unreadable crossing his face. “Then do it,” he says simply, quirking a brow. His arms stay at his sides— but there’s something he wants to do, and Jack can see it in the crease of his brow and the glint of his eye.

Jack opens his mouth to speak— shuts it and lets go of Cole’s face, tearing his fingers through his hair again. “Don’t,” he says, “You can’t just— you can’t come waltzing back into my life like this and give me that goddamn _look_ , okay? It doesn’t help things. It doesn’t help _me_.”

At that, Cole is silent. The look is gone— replaced by one of searching, of analysis. Jack _hates_ that one. “Right,” he says, “that’s— understandable.” His eyes drop to the floor again. “I’ll just take the couch, then. Apologies.”

Breathing out a frustrated sigh, Jack pivots on his heel with both hands in his hair. “I don’t get it, Phelps,” he says, “How is it that two years pass and you’re still this stubborn?”

“ _I’m_ stubborn?” Jack can feel Cole’s eyes on the back of his head, piercing. “I’m trying to _help._ Just— you—” He exhales his own sigh of frustration. “Again, I don’t _deserve_ it. What I did to you—” He stops, and it sounds like he’s shuffling his feet. “I… I just don’t—”

Jack pivots back around to face him, eyebrows raised. “You _are_ stubborn,” he says, “You’re stubborn and headstrong and—” He stops and inhales sharply. His eyes are trained on Cole’s face with an unwavering intensity. “And I’m fucking _mad_ that I still enjoy it. That’s the worst part of it.” He bites out another frustrated noise and averts his gaze then. He can’t handle Cole’s unnervingly _blue_ eyes right now. He can’t handle _anything_ right now. “I don’t get it. I don’t _get_ any of this. Why is it that despite everything I can’t bring myself to hate you?”

For the longest time, Cole stares. He stares with those icy blue eyes, his expression frozen in shock, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide. Then, he takes a step forward— stops dead in his tracks, inhaling deeply and—

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words hang between them in a heavy silence. Cole swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I wish that there was something more I could say or do to show you that.” A pause. “I… used you. During the war, I— completely disregarded _your_ feelings, I only focused on my own.” He shakes his head. “There’s no excuse for what I did. What I did to _you._ ”

Jack says nothing, gaze trained on Cole’s face again. His fingers twitch at his side. “It’s a start,” he says, and he inhales sharply, eyes flicking down to _somewhere_ for just the briefest moment. “It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

By the way Cole’s breath catches in his throat, the way his own eyes trail down then snap back up, it’s obvious that he _caught_ that look. Another hard swallow— suddenly, the room is stifling. “I should say that I’ve been wanting to say that for years.”

Jack clears his throat. “Well,” he says, “If we’re admitting things, I’ve been wanting you to— just show up like this. For a long time. Too long.” Carefully, cautiously, he reaches out for Cole’s face again and tilts his chin up. He leans in, just enough, and— falters. His lack of confidence is apparent. “Is this okay?”

Cole inhales sharply. “More than okay,” he murmurs, and he closes the gap between their lips. Jack drops his hand from Cole’s face, moving to pull him in by the waist. A noise of surprise rises from Cole’s throat, and his arms come up to wrap around Jack’s neck. He takes the initiative to kiss Jack more deeply, more hungrily, his fingers threading through Jack’s hair. Unable to hold himself back, Jack moves to push Cole up against the door.

With great hesitation, Cole pulls away. “Wait—” He’s trying to breathe. “If we’re going to do this, I—” He swallows hard. “It’s been a while.”

Jack hums, dropping his lips to Cole’s neck. His teeth graze his skin. “We can go slow,” he mumbles, and he bites down before kissing where he’d left a mark. “Whatever you need.”

Cole exhales sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut at the slightest hint of teeth. “You know I don’t like it slow,” he mutters, pulling Jack even closer and wrapping one leg around his hip.

Jack’s breath catches. Despite himself, he lets out a low, rough laugh. “That I do, Cole,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s called him by his first name that night, “That I do.”

Something electrifying tingles down Cole’s spine at Jack’s laugh— then, the use of his name makes him inhale sharply, shakily. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for all of my emotional Coles. He's just a very sad man.
> 
> -oniyen


End file.
